


Why Not to Upchuck on Grumpy Werewolves

by Elivira



Series: Empathic Stiles Oneshots [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: ... Because I Want Her to Be, ... almost, ... but not really, Alive Allison, Crack, Empathic Stiles, Empathy, Fluff, Gen, Nogitsune Effects, Post-Nogitsune Stiles, Psychic Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 18:49:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5836744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elivira/pseuds/Elivira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's slow, but change comes, Stiles learns how to control his abilities. Only Derek stands in his way, because Derek is a writhing mass of unhappiness. Stiles deals in the only way he knows how. Avoiding.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Not to Upchuck on Grumpy Werewolves

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure fluff, almost to the point of crack... Pretty much the opposite to its prequal... Enjoy!

Life goes on like normal. Scott gets better at blocking, Stiles gets better ignoring, and finally goes back to school. It's hard, passing periods are horrible, stress radiates off everyone in a thick yellow mist, making it hard to breathe and his head pounded sync with his heart. He can't eat in the cafeteria, so Scott, Allison, and Lydia sneak out with him and they eat behind the school. It’s nice there, quiet, and Stiles likes it.

It's nice, to out with Scott again, after weeks of skirting around him in a series of uncharacteristic acts of self-preservation. Lydia had finally had to drag Scott to Noshiko with a comment about them needing to “get over their break up”. So Scott and Stiles hang out, play video games, and Stiles does his best to ignore the pale gray _worryworryworry_ that Scott radiates whenever Stiles’ eyes follow a strip of smoke that only he can see.

* * *

“Dude,” Stiles says, “what is my life?” He squints at the cloud of _angerpaingriefannoyance_ as it approaches them in a haze of _darkredolivegreenlavenderpurplepukeyellow_ in an attempt to make out the person behind it.

“What?” Scott asks from the passenger seat of Stiles’ jeep.

“Derek.” Stiles says, offering no explanation, because everyone (even Scott) knows that Derek is a tangle anger issues on top of all that other shit he's got going on. Scott tilts his head in question and Stiles slumps down in the driver’s seat in a sad attempt to disappear, apparently Scott missed the memo. “He's just so damn _unhappy_ ,” he groans.

Stiles has been doing his best at avoiding Derek since a disaster of a meeting two weeks ago that had ended with Stiles’ last meal ending up on Derek’s feet. Derek’s emotions are overwhelmingly horrid and Stiles had been successful at avoiding him, until now.

“He looks unhappy.” Scott notes unhelpfully as he roots around in his backpack for something. He’s radiating a bit of annoyance, puke yellow floats around him in a thin mist, and Stiles can guess he’s misplaced his biology homework again.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “I know.” He says, trying to sink lowered the seat. “I told you we shouldn’t’ve waited for Allison.”

Scott looks at Stiles as if the idea of Allison Argent walking home alone is something akin to kicking a puppy.

Stiles snorts. “Scott, you’re so gone.” He glances at the approaching figure of Derek and groans again. “Why me?” He asks anyone who might be listening.

“She's,” Scott pauses, at a loss for words, “Allison.” As if that explains, and to him it probably does.

Stiles snorts unattractively.

Stiles has got to give it to them, for all of their faults, they always seem to end up together again. It's a bit dizzying to watch from the outside.

“He's coming towards us.” Scott says, sitting back up, homework clutched triumphantly in one hand and a pencil in the other.

“Noooo.” Stiles sighs dramatically. “He’s going to eat my face Scott. I vomited on his feet the last time we saw each other!”

Scott gives Stiles a sympathetic smile, “I'll protect you dude.” And yes that does make Stiles feel a bit better, because Derek’s not an alpha anymore, and Scott's a little bit badass himself.

“Yeah, I bet you will.” Stiles laughs, peering out the window and flinching back when he sees Derek scowling, face inches from the glass.

Scott laughs as Stiles flails surprise, long limbs narrowly missing Scott in the small car. “He's not going to eat your face Stiles.” Scott says.

“Yes he is!” Stiles yelps.

Derek taps on the window pointedly and raises his eyebrows in a way to clearly says “you know I can hear you right?” Stiles glares and locks the doors, Derek’s eyebrows furrow.

“You know that he can just rip the door off if he wants to?” Scott says.

“Not helping Scott.” Stiles frowns. “And that's not the point.”

He looks back at Derek, who's scowling again, face contorted unattractively.

“What is the point?” Scott asks, “Why don't you just talk to him?”

Scott is right, for once, but Stiles (on pain of death) would never admit it. He should talk to Derek, tell him he’s sorry for losing his lunch on his feet. (Even if he thinks it's Derek's fault, if he doesn't want to get vomited on by the resident empath, he shouldn’t be so unhappy all the time.)

“He'll _kill_ me!” Stiles hisses, sitting up to reach for the ignition, maybe Derek will leave him alone if he just drives off.

“No!” Scott hisses. “We have to wait for Allison!”

“Scott! There's a killer werewolf out there who wants to eat my face and you're worried about a Allison? What ever happened to bros before hoes?”

“Uhm,” Scott says intelligently.

“Ugh, whatever.” Stiles sighs and shifts the jeep back into park. “Go away Derek.” He grumbles. Derek just shakes his head, lips moving in a mumble of words that Stiles can’t hear.

“He says he just wants to talk.” Scott shrugs.

“Really? Then why is he scowling at me?”

“Dude, it's Derek, that's like his default or something.”

Derek narrows his eyes.

“Sorry Derek, but you know it's true.” Stiles laughs, but unlocks the door and starts rolling down the window.

“Stiles.” Derek says.

“Derek.” Stiles mocks, trying to ignore the wave of unhappiness, griefangersadness that washes over him. Stomach rolls and happily.

“I'm sorry for throwing up on you.” It's true, it had been incredibly embarrassing, and he is sorry. But Derek’s face had been priceless.

Derek grunts in acknowledgement of the apology.

“So what do you need buddy?” Stiles asks.

“I talked to Deaton,” he answers and Stiles waits for him to continue. “He said that it left a little bit of itself in you when Scott and Lydia woke you up.”

“Yep.” Stiles answers, popping the ‘P’ even if though it hadn't really been a question.

Derek’s glare lessens a bit. “I just wanted to check up on you.”

“What?” Stiles gapes. Was Derek actually worried? He snaps his mouth shut. “Oh, well I'm good. Fine and dandy. Happier than a fox in the henhouse!” He kinda squeaks a bit at the end, and winces at his choice of words.

“Good.” Derek says curtly, and turned to leave.

“Thanks!” Stiles blurts out to his horror

Derek just nods sharply and stalks away.

As soon as Derek is out of sight, Stiles slumps in his seat. “Oh God.” He groans.

“That was horrible.” Scott agrees, and Stiles can tell he's barely holding in laughter.

“Don't laugh,” Stiles groans, “that was so embarrassing.”

“Allison's coming.” Scott says happily tilting his head to the side as he listens. Apparently Allison takes precedence over Stiles dying of embarrassment.

“Sorry I'm late guys!” Allison chirps, as she opens the back and sides in.

“It's fine!” Scott says happily. He's got that grin on his face, the one that he gets whenever Allison is around. It’s a mix of dopey and obviously in love.

Allison is happier than usual. The cloud of anger and grief that usually follows her around like a particularly angry thunderstorm has lessened and Stiles is incredibly glad that she hadn't shown up when Derek was here. They might've gotten over some of their issues, but the unhappiness in both of them increases exponentially when they're within a hundred feet of each other.

Allison leans to the front to peck Scott on the cheek. When she leans back Scott looks pleadingly at Stiles, who rolls his eyes in a way that Scott takes is a good thing, because before Stiles knows it Scott is opening the door and getting into the back with Allison.

Stiles frowns. “What am I? A chauffeur?” He mumbles, and he can see Scott grin in the rearview mirror.

“Bros before hoes dude. Bros before hoes.” Stiles mutters. Scott laughs, loud and happy as Allison asks what’s wrong.

Stiles shifts the gear out of park and drives.

 


End file.
